


Reds, Blues, and the Bitterness of Fate

by Handfulofdust



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handfulofdust/pseuds/Handfulofdust
Summary: Soulmate AU where no one is quite sure what sign they're going to get or when it is supposed to come but Rafael and Olivia are pretty sure it has something to do with colors





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing here and I've watched this show completely out of order so apologies if the timeline is off. I also haven't written any fic for actual years so if this is terrible I am sorry. Thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rafael sees colors, catches feelings, and decides caring was a bad choice

Rafael's mother had told him about soulmates when he was five. She said it was the universe's way of making sure everybody had somebody. He didn't ask her if his father was her soulmate. He couldn't accept a universe that cruel.

As he aged he came to find the entire thing a bit sappy - as if the only reason you could love a person was because of fate. Mami had said you can never tell when it's going to come, it just happens and you know. He was not a fan of such lack of detail. How were you supposed to tell? What were you supposed to do about it?

He was deathly afraid that whatever was going to tell him who his soulmate was - it was going to be a sign he didn't understand. He'd meet him or her and he wouldn't know until he'd already screwed it up.

Yelina told him soulmates were silly. He had asked her if Alex was hers. Neither of them had any idea but he was leaning toward no. He wished there was a way to know these things with any sort of definity. He guessed this was part of the scam. He wasn't sure soulmates were actually real any more. Just a thing Lucia Barba went with to make herself feel better. He couldn't begrudge her that.

There was a whole cottage industry built around this stuff - services to find your mate, tips to read the signs, how to decide what your sign was going to be. One year he helped prosecute a guy for fraud who convinced women their matching moles made them soulmates. The moles were as fake as the whole idea of soulmates.

A leading proponent of "Soulmate Theory" said it was different for everyone. Mami must have listened to this guy. Some people have marks, some people have words, he'd even heard a case of two people who booked the same plane ticket. Rafael found that last one to be a stretch, but who was he to judge? If it kept people from hurting each other, right?

Except, it didn’t.

He saw people who believed themselves to be soulmates destroy each other. What did it mean that the universe destined you to find someone who hurt you so much. Maybe the universe was that vindictive after all.

If they were real, he decided, there wasn't one for him. He didn't need that kind of pain. He didn't trust himself with that kind of power over another person.

Then, it started.

For the first few weeks he started in the Manhattan DA's Office he thought he had a brain tumor. He'd get these bright sparks in the corners of his eyes. Flashes of tints that never existed. Maybe he was going blind too.

A workaholic upwardly mobile ADA does not go to the doctor. He waits it out and hopes he manages to file a brief before he drops dead. Moves forward. He certainly shouldn't be spending his lunches staring at food because he can finally see the color green.

He'd never say those flashy suits were a mistake. Far from it. He'd just never been able to tell the difference before.

After a Tuesday where he'd spent the entire night staring at the contents of his wardrobe, he went to the eye doctor. He couldn't think.

The doctor didn't understand what was wrong. Soulmates are a great thing Rafael, he had said.

He hadn't made the connection. Soulmates were a figment of his mother's imagination. They weren't real. Besides, with all the people he'd met that week, who the hell knew who it was anyway? In any event, if they were real they were stupid.

In any event, if they were real, he didn't need that kind of pain.

He spent months, years trying to stop the colors. Other people spent their whole lives dealing with this?

He'd be lying if he said it hadn't come in handy. He realized some people turned colors on the stand. The pinks drain from their faces, the undertones go yellow. Sometimes their cheeks turn red.

He really hated the color red.

He hated all the colors but particularly red.

She came barging into his office, telling him to drop this case, telling him to speed up this other trial, telling him she didn't technically have the evidence to support either act. God, she drove him crazy.

It was after Lewis that he knew. The colors faded when she was kidnapped.

He refused to let himself believe in such a thing but there was no denying it. And, after all, soulmates didn't have to be romantic. They didn't have to even like each other.

They came swirling back into Technicolor when she was safe, screeching across his irises once he saw her again. Soulmates didn't have to be romantic but they certainly could also be one-sided. There was no way he was telling her anyway. She didn't need any more pain.

Imagine Rafael Barba telling you you're his soulmate. He couldn't think of anything more terrifying.

They became friends. He has no idea how this happened. He was beginning to be okay with this - it seemed the least painful of the options. He was almost, happy? He wasn't going to think about what would happen when she found her soulmate. He thinks he'd rather rip out his own eyes than watch that happen. He thinks he'd rather tear out his own heart than tell her how he feels.

When did his feelings become romantic?

He thought he hated red the most, but then Sheila happened. Sheila who fucked up this delicate balance. Sheila who forced him to comfort and do things he would never do because he saw Olivia's world turn blue.

He never wanted to see blue again.

When the Householders came into his life it was a mass of tubes and static and infinite sadness. A sadness you could never come back from. This child would never know the cruelty of this world. He'd never know the joys. He couldn't even comprehend a gray. He was not going to let these parents know the pain of red.

The pale blues at his trial were enough. He wishes he could go back. He wishes he could pretend he didn't know what he was doing. If Maggie had just been able to do it herself... but she didn't need that kind of purple.

Purple was the worst one. Purple was the final straw. The searing, blinding pain of red tempered by the enduring melancholy of blue. There's a reason he didn't mention that one to Liv. He wouldn't wish it on anyone. He'd rather claw out his own chest.

So he attempts to rip out his own soul instead.

He as good as told her, didn't he? He didn't use the words but she must know what he meant. He feels awful, still. He didn't want to inflict that kind of cruelty on anyone. Least of all her.

Turning around, walking away, all those purples and reds and blues went away. Turned back into grays, formed back into black and white.

He wishes it weren't so empty.

Not every soulmate is romantic. Just because she's his doesn't mean he's hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have known that attempting to write a good old fashioned soulmate AU I would turn into just a bunch of wallowing. I will attempt to get these two back together by the end of this but they are both quite stubborn so it may be slow going.


	2. In Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Olivia basically dares the universe to prove her wrong and is disappointed when it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive response to the first part of this. Unfortunately this part is mostly more sadness from a different perspective.

Olivia Benson tried not to believe in soulmates. She tried not to hope for them. Her mother once told her how ridiculous it was, to think for a second the universe fated people to find each other. As if that would be a good thing. 

It made sense. Given who her mother was and what had happened of course she didn't believe in soulmates. She'd probably never even known hers. Or, most likely, she didn't care about hers. 

It didn't stop Olivia from hoping. She wished she could stop. 

It's different for everyone. She'd heard this frequently. I would have been nice if everyone got a matching mark or a clock timer that went off so she knew what to look out for. Some people didn't even get one. 

She'd hoped it was so many people. She'd been terrified of it being so many people. For the longest time she thought it was Elliot. You didn't feel that way about someone who wasn't your soulmate, right? It was just her luck - someone who wanted one so much, who reached out for it so hard - to have it be unrequited. 

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed that there wasn't a click or a spring or a mark. A friend had told her music made sense to her after she met her husband. She'd read someone got a new "birthmark" after their child was born. That reminded her it didn't need to be romantic. She resolved to be okay with this. 

She was not. 

After he left she decided soulmates sucked anyway. She didn't actually believe this. Somewhere, in the back of her brain, she wasn't sure that he was actually her soulmate. Somewhere, deep down, she still hoped for a great, grand love with the person she was fated to. She'd never tell anyone that. That would be insanity. 

She hadn't realized she was color blind until she saw a flash of red that day. Color blind wasn't really the correct term but - everything had just been a mass of browns and grays in what she would come to understand as sepia tone. 

It couldn't be this. It couldn't be him. She didn't even like him! More like, she could barely stand him. 

How was this worse? 

Most of that year was reds. Varying degrees of scarlet firing behind the eyes, anger at his not understanding, fury at someone so pig headed. She was so mad she ever asked for this. This was nothing like anything she'd expected. Nothing like anything she'd wished for. 

Getting your dreams, it’s a little complicated. She should have known better. She should have known part of the reason she was so disappointed was her expectations. Experience should teach her not to try. 

She should have known with Lewis, when the browns came back. She made other choices. 

She was prepared for the reds to screech back into her life. She almost welcomed them. They drove her crazy but at least she felt alive. He drove her crazy but at least it was fun. At least he challenged her. At least she had a soulmate after all. 

She wasn't about to tell him. She wasn't going to burden him with this. She wasn't going to acknowledge the blues on the corners of her world. She wasn't going to acknowledge his death threats. She wasn't going to think about him not being here. That would be unbearable. She didn't even like him. 

She started to be successful at not thinking about it. Decided that unrequited soulmates didn't have to be so bad. Decided she might sort of like him after all. Maybe he wasn't all that terrible a person, flashy suits notwithstanding. Not his fault the universe was ridiculous. 

She got Noah. The reds came back. Maybe the reds weren't just there to drive her crazy. 

Somewhere along the way they became friends. The reds became pinks and gave way for yellows and greens. Maybe they were platonic soulmates after all. God forbid they talk about it. It was unnecessary. Talking about it would only lead to pain. She couldn't imagine how anyone actually confronted that part and told a person. She couldn't imagine giving someone else that much power. 

She still dreaded blue. 

It came back with Sheila. It was deafening. She couldn't see straight. Couldn't fathom losing Noah. 

She'd spent so much time telling herself that he didn't actually care that when Rafael actually helped it floored her. She'd known they were friends, suspected this was a thing friends did, but it sure felt like something more. She couldn't begin to start hoping again. It was then she started to see purple. 

It was then she realized she'd fallen in love with him. She couldn't begin to do anything about it. 

Everything went indigo with that trial. She prayed for red. She bargained for pinks. She hoped for greens. She briefly wished for the browns again. Whatever would save him she didn't care. She didn't give a shit about McCoy or Stone or honestly really even the law. Didn't they understand it was mercy? Didn't they understand how much pain he was in? 

They wouldn't listen when she tried to tell them they were cutting out her organs. They couldn't understand. 

The reds came back again when they found him not guilty. She couldn't stop herself from the hope this time. McCoy had told her it was fine, Barba was still the best ADA for them. He wasn't going anywhere if he had anything to do with it, and he did. She can't be blamed for forgetting how to breathe when she heard he'd resigned. 

She can't be blamed for rushing down to confront him. She can't be held accountable for trying to ask him for more. She can't expect to understand why she asked for an "and." All she could comprehend was purple. 

She'd had no idea. Who tells you that you make them see colors and then walks away? Doesn't he understand he's cutting her off at the knees? Does he care? Did he even understand what that meant?

Soulmates doesn't mean love, not always. Sometimes though, sometimes that's why it hurts so much. 

Fucking purple though. No one needed all that emotion in one thing. No wonder he couldn't handle it. No wonder he didn't understand it was love. He didn't even want a soulmate. Maybe he didn't even see purple. He hadn't actually mentioned it.

How did this keep getting worse? Finding your soulmate, loving him so much - should have felt beautiful and right. She should be happy. Her world should be a mess of greens and yellows and even purples. 

She was pretty sure he ripped out her heart on those steps. She was pretty certain he walked away with it. How else to explain why she couldn't even see red anymore? How else to explain why she didn't run after him? 

She realized he'd been trying to make a clean exit and broken her world in the process. 

How else to explain why she felt so hollow? How else to comprehend all this brown again? She refused to believe this could get any worse. She wouldn't abide a universe so cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's at least one more part to this, but I might have to break it up since it's getting long. Attempting for a happy ending but I may have to bash their heads to get them to do it.


	3. Mutually Assured Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which feelings are hard and talking about it is impossible and maybe being friends is easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping dialogue works with the tone of the rest...

She feels it before she sees it really. He walks into her office as if it's a normal day, makes a sarcastic comment she doesn't hear, plops down in the chair across from her desk and has the audacity to smile at her.

All she can do is glare back. 

"Nice to see you too, Liv," he smirks, seeming calm while his fingers fidget with the latch on his briefcase. She's surprised she can see that beneath all this damnable purple. She's mostly surprised she can think. 

"What did you need?" She breathes out, surprising herself at the clear tone in her voice. She may have even managed to show the anger she felt. How dare he? What kind of jackass disappears off the planet without a word for four months and comes back from the dead acting like everything's fine?  _ A jackass you're in love with...  _

He pauses for a second, looks at her face but not really into her eyes, makes that pathetic face of his, and launches into tales of glorious adventures. She only manages to catch some of it - something about skiing and general moping about. Some reference to Ulysses and meanderings about Dublin she can't be expected to understand or take seriously. Not when he's here, in her office, looking like he's lost half his body weight in burdens and stress. 

He looks great, amazing actually. She's pretty sure she wants to stab him. He's supposed to be a mess without her. He's supposed to come back here desperate and wailing and begging for forgiveness. 

She doesn't know who she's kidding. That was never going to happen. He would never do it and she would never allow it. 

She's certainly not going to admit to herself that part of the reason she isn't hearing him properly is that she wasn't sure he would ever come back. She's definitely not going to admit all she actually wants to do is kiss him. She's not a teenager. This isn't how this works and that's not how you solve anything. 

Pretending like she actually hates him isn't much more mature but she wasn't prepared for how much this would actually hurt. Fucshia and plum and indigo and violet. She hates all of it.

"Anyway I'm somehow employed now," he laughs. She doesn't reciprocate. "Apparently you don't need to have a sterling reputation to become a teacher and they were so desperate they took me."

"You're a professor now?" 

She can't imagine. She can, she just wishes they were still on the same team. She tells herself it's because she hates Peter Stone, but honestly, it's not even remotely that. 

"Just adjunct, but it's something," he smiles. "It gives me time to research how I can try and fix some things the good, old-fashioned way."

"The good, old-fashioned way wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a hammer and a chisel would it?" 

She's impressed she can manage this much banter when she's this full of anger and sadness. 

"Not quite that old, making the law more about justice," he opens his briefcase, pulls out a sheaf of white paper, fingers it before launching into some speech about wanting her to read something because she has experience with it.

She's still having trouble believing he's actually here - that she's not going to wake up and realize this is actually a nightmare.

"Read it if you can," he says, "I think it might help some people but you know these things better than I do." 

He plops it down on her desk in front of her, moves like he's going to the door, then stops and turns back to her. 

"Also I think I may be in love with you. Which I know is, at the very least, less than ideal, and I'm not expecting you to do anything about it or give a shit about it really. I just needed to tell you that's what I should have said." 

He somehow manages to look sheepish, of all things.

Time must have stopped. He can't have said that. She's imagining or dreaming or in one of those waking comas Munch used to go on about. She's going to give him a chance to back out of it because it's not true. 

"What?" she asks. 

"When you said and, I should have said I loved you." 

He's not taking the bait. He's not backing down. She doesn't know how to handle this. He can't come at her with all of this right now. 

She decides to deny any of it is happening. When did she become a coward?

"No, what is this thing you need me to read?" 

"Oh," he falters, trying to ignore the way his heart falls out of his chest. 

He'd kind of forgotten it was there. Who needs a heart when your best friend, the person who owns your soul, not only doesn't care that you're in love with her, won't even acknowledge it? 

He mentally dusts himself off. Who was he kidding? Was he really expecting the universe to work this out this time? Hadn't he learned from experience? 

"It's - um, it's a proposal to get New York to revisit some aspects of non-disclosure agreements. I've been trying to find a way for the court to be able to pierce them. I may be on to something." 

He wasn't going to tell her he'd spent most of his time away working on this, that it felt like a lot of his life had led up this work. Certainly wasn't going to tell her she inspired him to dig into it or that it was her voice in his head egging him onto it. 

He thinks it may be too much of an ask for her to understand what he's doing here, but he hopes she'll appreciate the gesture.

Instead she looks it over as if it's mounds of discovery evidence she can't begin to get through. 

"You didn't have a lawyer buddy you could send this to? Someone who understands the law more than I do?" 

He thinks she must have decided to stab him. He imagines this is what it must feel like when all the blood rushes from your body.

He had expected this would be hard, he knew Liv too well to think she'd welcome him back with open arms and banter, reciprocate the same feelings.

But this? This is so red it’s teetering into outright hate and he doesn’t have the stomach for that. 

"Okay then, I get it. I fucked up. I'll see myself out." 

He makes to grab the papers from her hands. She won't even let him have those. 

"I mean even Carisi is a lawyer," she digs in. 

He feels it going black. He wants to stop himself from lashing out and ruining all of it, but he's never been accused of being emotionally stable. He feels he's owed at least a minor breakdown because everything in his plan is falling apart but he mostly just can't help himself. 

"I said I get it. God forbid I want my best friend to read my shit." 

He manages to get his hand on the door before she interrupts him, "God forbid you tell your best friend about your shit. God forbid you talk to her. God forbid you give someone an inkling of where you are or at least let her know you're still alive." 

Her voice breaks somewhere on the end of the sentence and he realizes she's crying. He makes to comfort her, to hug her, to offer a handkerchief, but he realizes they are different people now. He doesn't have one, she doesn't want one. 

She doesn't want him. 

His world goes blue again. He needs to fix this before it goes all the way to black. 

'Liv - " 

"Don't tell me what God forbids, Rafa," she sniffs, wipes her eyes, and sighs, "I get it. You needed space and time to figure out whatever it was you were confused about. Just - you can't come here after four months of nothing and expect it to be like it always was." 

"I don't," he says gently, holds his hand out as if he's steadying himself or as if to push her away even further, maybe both. "I don't want it to be the way it always was. I realize I hurt you and I'm sorry." 

He looks up, and they make eye contact for the first time in months ( _ four, but who's counting _ ). 

"I'm truly sorry. I want to make a difference but I also want my friend back and I can't do either with you hating me." 

"I don't hate you." 

She wants to hate him of course, but it's so much worse than that. 

"I know. But it feels close, right?" He sighs, almost gives her a lopsided smile like old times but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Can I try and ask you for dinner one last time at least?"

Her heart cracks. 

"Last time?" She manages to ask. 

"You don't want me here, that much is clear."

She wants him here. She wants him. He's just moving too fast and she needs time. She needs to catch her breath from this whiplash. 

He's alive. He's here. He's staying. He thinks he loves her. He's sorry for it. He's leaving?

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

How in the world does he not understand the last thing she needs is that? How does he manage to cut at pieces of her she forgets exist? 

How did she ever hope for this? How did she ever survive without it? 

"Rafa, for such a good lawyer you are so -" she falters, shakes her head. She stops for a second and then manages to find her voice, "We can go to dinner. Next week. I should be done with all this paperwork by Wednesday and that should give me enough time to read this." 

She gestures to the papers. He decides to take the olive branch. He realizes he can be okay with blue here. He realizes all this pain and anger and sadness is still nothing compared to all that emptiness and hollowness without her. He's lying to himself when he pretends he didn't have hope for a second. He wanted her to love him too, but life isn't the movies and sometimes it's just fucking hard. 

At least it's got her in it. 

"So it'll be a working meal then?" he manages, attempts at banter again. She shoots it down. 

"It's gonna take some time to be your friend again okay?"

_ It’s gonna take some time to accept that I’m in love with you _ . She wishes she could say that. Wishes she could grab him by the arms and shut him up and make him stay forever. But she’s angry and tired and red makes her crazy. 

But she’s angry and tired and she’d just convinced herself she’d never see him again. 

"Okay." 

His heart is somewhere around his solar plexus. He's somewhere near a panic attack. He'd told her and she'd just ignored it. Basically told him it didn't matter. Then again, he'd told her she didn't have to give a shit. Why should he hope for her to feel any different?

At least he could see the colors again. Even if they were purple. 

At least they weren't fucking gray. 

* * *

So they go to dinners, to Forlini’s and random dive bars and holes in the wall and taco trucks and he begins to like the person he is now. He's open and unpretentious and he's starting to lean toward happiness.

He's down to two cups of coffee a day now rather than the infinite number he never actually kept track of.

He doesn't wear full suits all the time any more but he's also not going to wear those weird blazers with the mismatched patches on the elbows. He's more relaxed now and he's not under as much stress or as wiry with caffeine but he's still going to put some effort into his appearance. 

He's not actually an entirely different human, just slightly better at being one, he hopes. 

Sometimes he has to stop himself from demanding to know why she's ignoring it. 

He tells himself she's not meaning to hurt him, tells himself she's actually just as screwed up and miserable as he is and that he's had months ( _ years on top of months, but who's counting _ ) to get used to the the idea of being in love. He tells himself she forgot about what he said. 

He reminds himself he practically pointed out her exit with runway markings. Gave her a trap door when he told her she didn't have to feel the same way. It still feels awful.

The devil in the back of his mind tells him she remembers good and well what he said. She cares about him but she will never love him. Not like that. Never him. 

It's moments like that he reminds himself how empty it is without her so he doesn't do something stupid. Like kiss her or push her or actually talk about any of this really. 

He can't understand why she isn't married or with someone or settled down. She's wonderful. He really wants her to be happy. If his is unrequited at least he'll get to see her happy. He doesn't understand why she keeps this up. 

He doesn't understand why she keeps him around when she could be finding her soulmate, when they drive each other so far up walls. Maybe she already found him or her? Maybe she's dead? Maybe it's her old partner? Maybe it was unrequited too. 

He thinks soulmates is the worst, cruelest joke the universe ever inflicted on his sorry ass. He wouldn't wish it on his darkest enemy. He wouldn't wish it on William Lewis but mostly because that twisted bastard would use it to his advantage. 

He still, despite everything, loves her beyond reason. He's not even all that mad about that part. He thinks he's beginning to even like purple. 

* * *

She breaks down one night after dinner. Tells him she's sorry for pushing him away, sorry for not reading his gesture with the NDA proposal as what it was - a peace offering. Even if she didn't understand half of the words in it it's still amazing. He thinks she understands every word, knows she's a ton smarter than she ever really allowed herself credit for, even if he might be projecting a little bit. He knows, at least, that she's genuine in her praise. 

She tells him if he gets this to work he really will become a feminist icon to more women than just her.

He smiles, hugs her, relishes the fact that she lets him touch her like this. 

He stops short of wishing for more. 

He stops short of telling her he doesn't need to be any other woman's icon. He doesn't even need to be her icon, really, just would be nice if she would love him back a little bit, but he's not going to push this. 

Rafael Barba has his best friend back and after the hell he has been through this year he is going to fucking be okay with it. 

He told her. It's the best he can do. 

* * *

He takes her to meals and shows and walks in parks. He brings her coffee on his days off for no real reason. They have long talks and he plays with Noah and sometimes they come really close to snuggling and she's not entirely sure they're not actually dating. She's not entirely sure why she can't take the heart she thinks he's offering. She's not entirely sure he's actually offering it.

She thinks her feelings are obvious. Why can't she manage to let him know? It's like staring at the damn sun. She wants to be mad at him. She is mad at him. She wants to be able to trust him with her heart. She wants to be able to give it to him. 

Whoever thought it would be this hard? 

When she tells him she is sorry again after a meal where they were, again, entirely too dressed up for it not to be a date she almost laughs at the exasperated look on his face. He tells her she needs to stop apologizing and looking so emotional when he's in formal wear and can't exactly lend her a shoulder to cry on. She almost tells him he's always in formal wear when she realizes that's not true anymore. 

They're different people now. It breaks her heart but she's honestly happy for him. This teaching thing is working for him. Maybe this is what Atlas would be like if he got a break from holding up the world. She tells him as much and the look on his face almost kills her.

Is that the way he’s always looked at her, like she hung the moon but he’s pissed she didn’t consult him on the best way to get it up there? Is that the way she’s always looked at him? ( _ Yes _ ,  _ and you’ve always denied it _ )

He's impressed she knew enough Greek mythology to make that reference. She tells him she's uncultured, not dumb. He smiles and laughs, seems proud almost, and she almost forgets what she's sorry for until she realizes why she can't tell him. 

She can't give him her heart because she's not sure she's truly worthy of this after all. She doesn't know how she'd handle being that happy and she's worried she's going to self-sabotage or blow it up because that's what she always manages to do. She’s not entirely sure she didn’t already do that. Maybe that’s why she keeps apologizing for everything but what she really means. 

Once she gives this up and tells him soulmates is very much a thing and she may love him even if he's not sure he loves her she's going to have to face facts. Once she apologizes for going straight to denial she's going to have to tell him she's terrified he'll leave. Again.

Score for abandonment issues, but it's not just that. Too tough, too strong, too big a heart Olivia Benson isn't sure she'll survive this if it breaks. She realizes she's terrified of this falling to pieces. 

She realizes she's terrified of this puzzle being done and not having anything left to chase. She realizes she's terrified of being happy. 

Maybe she just needs therapy. Maybe she needs to get this fucking over with and let the rest of her life just happen. Maybe she just needs to get on with it. 

Maybe soulmates is a sick, twisted joke where the universe is actually an asshole who thinks it's funny to pair you with the person who drives you the most crazy. Maybe she loves him in spite of this. 

Maybe someday she'll actually tell him a piece, a part, or all of this.

Today she will make up something else to be sorry for until she can work out how to tell him that colors are the fucking worst, best, most amazing thing the universe ever inflicted on her. Second only to him. 

For now she will settle on being mad because she really is angry. It masks how scared she is that it isn't going to be what she thinks, what she hopes. If she doesn't actually take it she can't lose it. 

If she doesn't actually take it she'll never actually have it. Blue isn’t so bad -- sometimes.  

* * *

He helps watch Noah on days he doesn't have classes. He's not the world's biggest fan of kids but Noah is cool, he likes his stories and the robots he helps build. He was never going to be the world's greatest uncle ( _ or stepdad, but he’s decided not to wish for things that can’t happen _ ) but he's trying and he thinks he's managing to succeed.

He tells her to take it easy on Stone. He's a good man. He can't be sure of this. They both know he's making it up, but it feels like the right thing to say. 

He sees his mother, manages to apologize for things he's not even exactly sorry for, he thinks she's okay with what he did, in the way only Mami can be. He's pretty sure he's doing his penance for it now. 

He tells her he found his soulmate, finally. She doesn't seem as excited as he was expecting. 

"We both know its your Lieutenant Benson, Rafi," she says, "and I'm not sure what you want me to do about it when you've clearly done nothing."

He tells her he did, that it's not like it's romantic, that it's not like it has to be mutual. She remains unimpressed with this explanation. She doesn't believe any of those points. She thinks he's deflecting. 

He wishes he was. 

* * *

Fin asks her what she's doing one day after Rafael stops by with lunch. The two of them have never been close, always sort of tolerated each other, but she's still surprised Fin would be so against him being around.

Apparently it's not that at all. 

"The man's been in love with you forever, Liv," he shakes his head at her, "If you ain't in love with him too then let it go. Otherwise it's just mean." 

Fin has no idea how cruel the universe can be. How much of a sick joke love and friendship and feelings and colors and soulmates actually is. She tells him she's not leading him on. She assures him she'd never intentionally do that. 

She doesn't bother asking him how she's supposed to fix it. She realizes she's the only one who can. 

* * *

He tells her more about what he did during his absence. She's not sure if she's more interested or more prepared this time but she's actually able to hear him now. He still believes he did the right thing in the end, just regrets that there wasn’t actually a good choice there. Admits a whole lot of other feelings were wrapped up in it that he had refused to acknowledge. Says he realized he still had an obligation to do good work, to make a difference, he just didn’t have to slowly kill himself in the process.

He doesn’t tell her the reason he came back was also because he missed her, that being without her felt like he was missing whole organs. He refuses to talk about that part. It’s pathetic. 

He wants to talk about that part if he’s being honest. He wants to tell her she’s the sun and purple is his favorite color and that he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing and cuddling and sending her flowers no one would believe were actually from him. 

But that’s sappy and she’d never hear of it.

He’ll settle for pining. He’s only slightly terrified at the thought of her finding her soulmate though. Only because he’s recently started wondering if that means he’ll go back to gray. That might actually be how he slowly kills himself. 

* * *

He manages to get his NDA proposal through the appropriations committee of the New York Senate. It’s a modified version attached to a highways bill that he thinks is only there so some Albany Republican can spite some Syracuse Democrat, but hey, it’s the art of the trade, right? He’s pretty sure he hates politics. He’s certain he hates politics, but part of this is his penance, so he’s dealing with it.

He’s only sort of doing it for her. He’s only 60% doing it for her. 

Okay he’s mostly doing it for her. 

After he tells her about this she informs him they are celebrating, Noah will be spending the night at Rollins’ so they can actually have a dessert course this time. It’s a nice night, he manages to flirt in ways she actually reciprocates. Maybe he’s imagining things again, maybe purple is making him actually go blind and dumb this time. He’ll take it. 

They go back to her place and he knows this isn’t going to go at all like he’s hoping. He knows to appreciate the gesture of making time for him. He loves that she seems genuinely happy for him. Not just because this is going to help her with her job or because it will help victims, but because he made the difference he was wanting to. 

She’s in the kitchen, folding up towels when she shocks him. 

"You didn't exactly say you loved me, so I'm not sure if this is even worth bringing up really, but I did want to make sure you knew that I'm sorry for not letting you have your moment when you told me about your feelings. I was upset and overwhelmed and I was so consumed with being angry at you I couldn't believe it." 

Now it’s his turn to be floored. It’s his turn not to know how to breathe or react. He starts talking before he has a chance to think about it, and he’s never done that in his life, not really. 

"I know that you're sorry and you're certainly allowed to be angry and,” he stops, catches the words somewhere down his throat, practically falls over them. 

_ And for record I do love you and have been in love with you for years and I want you to love me back but I know that's never going to happen and I think I'm okay with that because you're still my friend and even if everything is blue and red and purple I meant it when I said you'd opened my heart and you're my soulmate but none of this means you should feel obligated to spend time with a sad sack.  _

That's what he wants to say. That's what he means to tell her - maybe a little more eloquent and in less of a run-on sentence - but that's the gist of it. 

What comes out instead is a haphazard, makeshift attempt at consolation.

"...and that’s okay." 

She thinks she can feel his heart beating so fast it's starting to break. Maybe it’s actually hers that’s doing that. It's difficult to tell anymore. Difficult to tell if he really doesn’t know or he’s just cutting off his fingers to stop the bleeding. 

It’s not supposed to hurt this much. She’s always been afraid of blue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I tried to write this as him saying he loves her, her saying it back and them all living happily ever after but Liv was just too angry to accept it and Rafa was just too sad to push it so here we are. 
> 
> One more part and we may just get there.


	4. Misunderstandings Lead to Happiness (but only if you confront it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get the chance to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I managed to get them a happily ever after, sorry if it doesn't feel like enough of a pay-off.

He’s great with Noah. She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t think so. He’d never actually admit that out loud, she knows, because Rafael Barba has not received a personality transplant, but she understands he feels inadequate - which is patently ridiculous. She wouldn't trust just anyone with her son. She barely trusts anyone with her son.

Sometimes she wonders if Noah is more excited to see him than she is. He’d tell her it was because he takes Noah to the park and he loves that place, but Noah likes him. He always has.

She’s beginning to think she’s going to have to tell him. The blue is becoming unbearable now. Not nearly as much as brown, but she can’t do this. She can’t stomach being the cause of it.

She just doesn’t know how she’s supposed to. She tried when she apologized for what she was actually sorry for. Sorry for hurting him. Sorry for not being able to express herself.

He’d cut her off really. Told her it was fine and she was valid and acted like he didn’t want to talk about it.

Maybe she’s reading too much into this. Maybe his colors were just a metaphor. Maybe he wasn’t actually in love with her and he's just the best friend she’s ever going to have.

Maybe he did love her at some point, but she’d talked him right out of it by being the way she always was. Unable to accept it, unable to confront it. Unable to take a single moment of happiness for herself without ruining it.

She’s worried he’s going to stab her right back in the chest when she tells him. She figures she deserves that. Is this what a beached whale feels like?

* * *

He’s taking Noah to the Natural History Museum because he's on a dinosaur kick lately. They’re riding the subway and he’s wearing jeans. He’s not sure who this person is he’s become, but he’s definitely close to happy.

Ladies are smiling at him in that knowing way they do when they think you’re a single dad. It’s hilarious to him. He may technically be single but he’s been taken for much longer than he cares to admit to himself.

They’re sitting on a bench near the Titanosaur when Noah asks him a question he seems to think is innocuous.

“What’s soulmates?”

His heart genuinely stops this time. He’s sure of that. Different colors flash at separate intervals. He shakes his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. Noah is too young to know what this is. Five was when his mother told him and it was way too young.

“Who told you about that?” he asks as he ties Noah’s shoes. His shoes are tied but the kid never quite manages to get them tight enough and Rafael needs something to do with his hands.

“Auntie Manda says that’s why Mom was so sad, because her soulmate went away,” Noah shrugs.

“She told you this?”

“Well she told Uncle Sonny,” he pouts, “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to hear. I’m sorry I was bad Uncle Rafa I just want to know what it is.”

“It’s okay,” he finishes with the shoes, looks up at the boy’s face, “just try not to listen as hard next time?”

Noah nods. Rafael sighs, wonders how much he should tell. Give him the Disney version with the happily ever after? Let him hope for something because maybe it’ll work out for him? He’s not going to inflict that kind of blue.

He’s also not about to be honest. Soulmates aren’t always about love. They aren’t always about romance. They aren’t always going to love you back. The worst is when they love you but just not in the way you want. He can’t get into how it feels like drowning on dry land and wanting to thank the universe for the pleasure.

“It’s when someone else has a piece of you and neither of you know it until you meet each other,”

He thinks he manages to explain that without too much detail. This was a better conversation for Liv. Maybe he should have told Noah he had to wait until he was older? That’s what real parents did, right?

“Oh, but how do you know when you meet them?”

“No one really knows, but you usually get some sort of sign.”

Noah seems satisfied with that explanation, doesn’t really press it further. He’s glad to be out of this. He’s not good with this in any fashion. They’re both looking at the dinosaur’s tail when Noah manages to shatter his balance.

“Auntie Manda says Cassidy broke Mom’s heart. I guess that means he has her soulmates pieces. I wish you weren’t on vacation when he took them. You could have stopped him.”

Cassidy. He should have known Olivia’s soulmate would be Brian Cassidy. Of course it’s that idiot.

He wants to tell Noah that’s not how this works. You can’t keep anybody from taking pieces of you - not even your heart or your other organs. They already have them and it’s up to them what to do with that power. It’s horrifying and beautiful all at once.

He does wish he was here though. He does wish he could have consoled her.

He’s really quite a mess if he’s being honest.

“I know,” he hugs him, “I wish I was too.”

* * *

He takes her to see some sad musical about lost love and ghosts and nostalgia and she can feel him slipping away, just a little bit. The blues are less sharp, the purples more indigo. She doesn’t really know what changed this time, but he’s more distant and it’s splitting her heart. She resolves she must tell him tonight. This has gone on long enough and it’s time for her to take the leap.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to function after she rips out a vital organ. She doesn’t know how she’s going to manage to or even tell him that’s what she did, but she has to tell him. He deserves it. Even if he steps on it.

Even if it goes all back to blue. Even if it, God forbid, goes back to brown.

Noah is spending the night with Lucy. She knows this can go one of two ways and she’s not going to worry about noise. They’re sitting on her couch, making idle conversation. They both know it’s not what they really want to talk about.

“The students found out about the Householder case apparently. They tell me that while they find my actions problematic 'A F', I am still worthy of flower crowns and being a fave?” he gestures over his scotch, confused and amused at the same time. 

She’s comforted by the fact that he still drinks it. They’re not completely different people, they’ve just changed.

“Your students seem nice," she offers. She thinks she understands what they mean. He's definitely still her favorite, in spite of everything. 

“They are as horrifying as their continued efforts to degrade the English language," he counters, just as irritable as ever, "but I guess they're okay.” 

They discuss what he’s been teaching them and she pretends she's following more about it than the words tortious interference. She forgot how mesmerizing he is when he gets all passionate. No wonder they love him. No wonder she loves him. Gosh she really just wants to kiss him. She thinks about just doing that.

But no - she has to tell him. She has to make sure he knows she’s not just pitying him or doing this because she feels obligated or some other sad thing he’d convince himself of in order to be unhappy.

“Noah asked me about soulmates today. I wanted to give you a head’s up in case he asks you about it. I’m sorry about Cassidy.”

She’s spinning again. He’s got to stop doing this. Wasn’t he just talking about torts? Where did soulmates come from?

“What did you say?”

Where did Cassidy come from in all of this?

“Something about someone having a piece of you, I wasn’t sure what you wanted to tell him but he was insistent.”

He seems tortured, seems put upon. It feels like the colors are all fading and she’s so confused. How would Noah know about soulmates?

“How would he even know about that? Is this like the Easter Bunny nowadays?”

“I guess he overheard Rollins talking about Cassidy and put it together,” he shrugs. He actually manages to shrug.

“Cassidy?”

She still can’t figure out what he has to do with anything, but she’s also still trying to catch up. She can’t think when he’s three steps ahead of her and the synapses are firing this much blue. She wants to close her eyes. She can’t manage. This isn’t a bad dream to wake up from.

“Yeah, I’m sorry he left Liv, that must be so hard.” His tone is gentle, caressing almost, “I’m really sorry I wasn’t here when that happened. No wonder you were so upset.”

He reaches his hand out to her shoulder and squeezes. It’s as she’s looking at the action that it clicks. He thinks she flipped out the day he came back because he wasn’t there to console her. He thinks she was mad because her best friend was gone and didn’t give her a shoulder to cry on.

He thinks Cassidy is her soulmate.

“You think I was upset with you because Cassidy left?”

“I mean -- yeah, because I did something stupid and didn’t let you fix it and didn’t tell you where I was going -- but also because your best friend wasn’t there when you lost your soulmate.”

She was mad because her best friend left and let her think he was dead. She was upset because the man she was in love with refused to let her save the day. She was angry because she lost her soulmate and her best friend wasn’t there to help. She was angry because all of these people were the same person and she couldn’t talk to anyone about it.

She hadn’t really formulated a plan for how to handle this but she’d never prepared for him to come out of left field with some wild theory.

“Brian Cassidy is not my fucking soulmate,” she snaps, “What the Hell Raf?”

“It’s not exactly Rollins’ fault your son has a good ear,” he cocks his head to the side in that sassy way he used to. The reds are screaming now.

“How could she think that?”

“Maybe Noah misheard.” He offers.

She can tell he’s pissed. She doesn’t exactly blame him. She’s quite pissed at Amanda for trying to ruin her life. She knows it’s not Amanda’s fault and knows Rafael is probably right about Noah misunderstanding. She’s about to take the opportunity to steer the conversation the way she’s been intending when he does the thing she’s been afraid of.

He stabs her.

“It’s not all that far-fetched,” his mouth goes up to one side, he turns away from her and sips his scotch.

She wants to grab him and cry and tell him he’s so mistaken. She wants to be that romantic heroine who takes her man and tells him all her feelings. She wishes she was emotionally stable and wasn’t infected with colors. She wishes she were less in love with him so she didn’t lash out so much.

“Yeah, well,” she responds bitterly, “My soulmate is mostly a jackass but it’s not Brian Cassidy.”

She gets off the couch, moves to the kitchen. She needs a barrier for this conversation. She thinks he may just let it go.

She knows he won’t. She knows she shouldn’t let him if he tries. It doesn’t stop the sigh when he gets off the couch and turns around to look at her.

“So you found him? Or her?”

He looks devastated. Again, she can’t really blame him. He’d probably resigned himself to being okay with Brian and been shocked when it wasn’t him.

“Yeah,” she answers, somewhere between a choke and a laugh.

He stares at her. It feels like hours. She sees blues and reds flare. She’s expecting them to fade. They don’t.

“I’m sorry.”

She will later understand why he said he was sorry. She will later know that he was in just as much pain as she was. That he was only miserable on her behalf because he assumed she would live a listless existence of pining and unrequited love bordering on depression.  

Now she can’t see over red. Now she just can’t help it.

“That’s your reaction to me finding my soulmate? Jesus Rafa, what did yours do to you?”

She knows what she did. She knows she didn’t come running after him like he wanted and flipped out when he tried to reach back to her. She's been suspecting she's his soulmate since that awful day at the courthouse. She knows he’s hers. She needs him to say the words. She needs him to tell her.

He crushes her lungs until she can’t breathe.

“Messed up my entire life, drove me crazy, ripped my beating heart from my chest and stepped on it. Maybe I did the ripping but she definitely stepped on it. Made me see all the colors in the universe and then let me just walk away.”

They both know what he means. They both know that it’s her. It doesn’t have to be spoken any more.

“Rafa -” she starts, moves back toward him.

“Don’t -” He reaches out a hand to stop her as if her being any closer would electrocute him, as if he's barely containing all his rage, “We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t need to. Your feelings have been perfectly expressed and I’m not asking you to return mine. I am happy for you. I’m just saying it hurts even when they don’t hate you.”

She’s going to tell him. She’s going to force this even if it breaks them both down to little pieces. She just can’t believe he doesn’t know. She can’t believe she’s not obvious. _He has no reason to believe it’s him._

She grabs his shoulders with both hands, he flinches. She’s amazed he’s this smart and this clueless. She looks in his eyes.

“You’re so dumb,” she realizes it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it’s out of her mouth. This may just kill them both.

He laughs, a bitter one full of hatred and self-loathing, “That much is clear.”

She decides to try logic, that should work. That should be how she gets through. He’s already thrown himself out of her grasp.

"Just who in the actual Hell do you think my soulmate is?”

He recoils. She can see the red going black, she can feel the snarl. She should have been prepared for it. She forgot how sharp his tongue could be. She forgot what a snake does when it’s prodded. She forgot what any animal does when it’s attacked. She remembers why she was so scared of this in the first place.

When a caged animal is provoked, it strikes back.

It stabs you - right in the heart.

“Rollins? Tucker?” he sniffs, “No, but they’d love you back. It has to be your old partner then.”

She almost slaps him. He’s ready for it when she gets into his face and glares at him. It’s like it used to be, only much, much worse. Red teetering into scarlet, maroon almost.

“I forgot you could be that cruel.”

“Like I said I’m sorry.”

He deflates, wraps his arms around her as she sobs into his chest, barely contains his own tears. He wishes it didn’t have to be like this. He wishes he could just kiss her and she would kiss him back and they’d live happily ever after. The Disney version he wanted to tell Noah.

But she’s got pieces of him she doesn’t want and he'd give anything to get them back to save the both of them from this. 

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, seems to contemplate something. Then she goes for it.

She’d later tell him this was when she figured out how to let him know. How to use his own logic against him. The right question to ask him before she killed both of them.

“What was the first color?” she asks.

“What?” he drops his arms, she pulls back. He doesn’t understand why she’s asking this. They both know his soulmate is her and hers isn’t him so he can’t fathom why she’s doing this.

Maybe to lash out, or make a clean break?

“You said your soulmate made you see colors. What was the first one?”

“You don’t want to do this, it’s not -”

He can't go back to seeing grays again. He just wants purples. He can’t do this.

“I asked a question,” She interrupts. She’s not really glaring this time. More a kind of resigned sadness. He sees something like hope behind her eyes but he knows he's indulging in wishful thinking as usual.

"Don’t use your police interrogation techniques on me like I can’t see through them.”

“Will you just answer the question,” she pleads, “for me?”

He could never deny her. As much as he wants to pretend that he can. He would cut off his arm if she needed it. He’s not sure he hasn’t already done so.

“Red,” he chokes on it, “I mean, it was mostly sparks and flashes at first but it was red.”

“Yeah me too,” she smiles sadly, “Had to go this jackass’s office and then he makes some snide comment about take your daughters to work day and I’m suddenly seeing red. Literally.”

She can’t be saying what he thinks she’s saying. She can’t be telling him that he’s been wrong this entire time and that they’ve wasted five, _no six, no six and a half years_ being cowards. She can’t be informing him that he’s her soulmate.  

He needs confirmation.

“Olivia,” he stares in her eyes and has his answer, but he still needs the words, “How long?”

“Well,” she looks down at her nails, fiddles with her cuticles. He can’t blame her for being nervous, “You’ve been my soulmate since forever I’m sure, and I knew it immediately, denied it immediately. I finally came to terms with it when you got those death threats but I didn’t realize it was love until Sheila, which of course meant you had to fuck it up and leave me.”

She looks up, their eyes meet. It’s all purple. It’s always been purple.

It’s always been her and it’s always been him.

“We’re idiots,” he laughs over the tears he hardly cares are falling.

She shakes her head and smiles at him.

“Will you just kiss me already?”

He does. He kisses her like he always wanted to. Clings to her like they’re both drowning because for awhile they almost did. She kisses him back and it’s glorious. He’s so amazed he forgets about how much time they wasted being utterly convinced true love was impossible. He barely even registers how bright this is.

He realizes these colors are not nearly as overwhelming when there’s someone else with you.

He silently thanks this dumb, cruel, asshole of a universe for it. He praises it for giving her back to him.  

She reminds him there’s no child down the hall to interrupt things.

He makes sure to show her his tongue isn’t the only thing he’s good for. She makes all the noise she wants. She's not sure whether the ecstasy is a result of the purples and pinks and blues and reds and yellows all bleeding together or being so relieved they could finally do this or them knowing each other so well or him just being really fucking great at this, but she's pretty sure it has something to do with how much she's in love with him. She's so far gone by this point she can't stop all of it from tumbling out of her mouth.

She starts to get embarrassed by herself, thinks he'll laugh at her, makes to turn away. He reaches out, smiles larger and wider than she's ever realized he even could, puts his hand on her waist, looks her straight in the eyes, and inflates her crushed lungs.

"Hey, first of all, you're pretty fucking great at this yourself, and secondly, to be absolutely clear, I am in love with you too."

She realizes in that moment that her heart was broken the entire time. Or, maybe, it was his heart that was broken and that's what she's been feeling. She's not really sure there's a difference. She realizes in that moment that all they ever needed to do was help each other put the pieces back together.

It only took five, six, no six and a half years, _but who’s counting really?_

* * *

The NDA proposal passes the New York House and goes to the governor. That week he gets offered an assistant professor position that he takes. They tell him the students love him and his research is unparalleled. He genuinely likes teaching and the research helps him keep up with the law and work to make a difference without actually having to deal with the pain of practicing it.

He asks Noah if it would be okay if he asked his mom to marry him. Noah says it’s fine like it doesn’t really matter either way. When Rafael pushes it a little further Noah stops coloring and looks at him.

“Does that mean you get her soulmates pieces?” he asks innocently.

He almost laughs. He can’t explain to a five year old that soulmates aren’t always married and marriage doesn’t make you soulmates. He can’t explain that they already are each other’s soulmates, he just wants to make this official. He just wants the rest of his life to start already.

“More or less,” Rafael settles on, “If she wants to give them to me, at least.”

“Mom has yours. I think she got hers back because she's happy now. She should share with you,” Noah says, all matter-of-fact, as if life is just that easy, as if soulmates were as simple as sharing. As if it’s been obvious to him that Uncle Rafa was Mom's soulmate this entire time - as if it was only a question of pieces

He looks up, an idea suddenly firing over his head, “Does that mean you would move here and read to me every night like Maya’s dad?”

“If your mom lets me.”

“She will,” Noah shakes his head yes, as if to emphasize the confidence he has in something entirely too obvious, “You should ask her tomorrow. I want to finish the caterpillar book.”

He asks her that Saturday, after a long conversation with Mami about where his abuelita’s ring is and a drawn out adventure to find it that's only somewhat complicated by the governor signing his bill that Thursday afternoon. He’s not sure why he’s so adamant to have it but maybe it’s got something to do with the amethyst inset. He always loved that ring, even before he knew what purple was.

Olivia says yes. Actually she says “of course, you idiot,” as he fumbles around the question.

* * *

He asks her if he’s moving too fast, she says six and a half years is plenty long enough. They move to a bigger apartment closer to campus. Noah is mostly just excited that it’s close to a park.

The story they tell at dinner parties about this out of the blue engagement - the spin they give to 1PP and the Columbia administration - is that they didn't fall in love until after he came back. That he wrote that NDA proposal and asked for her advice and it all started from there. That he proposed with some big, romantic speech about life partners and she said yes with tears in her eyes.

It's cheesy as hell. It's not at all them. People buy the shit out of it.

Well, the upper crust at the dinner parties buy the shit out of it. Her detectives know better. His students call him out on it.

"Oh come on, Professor Barba," says one of his 1st years, "We've seen the pictures of you two. You can't expect us to believe you were just friends that entire time." 

He smirks, smiles, shakes his head, "How do you know we weren't? Things aren't always just what they look like." 

Another tells him they understand why he would lie so it doesn't call into question all the cases they worked together, but that they can tell by the body language, they aren't blind. 

This turns into a discussion about how to tell if a client is lying and what to do about it. 

He thinks these horrifying young adults may just turn into decent lawyers yet. 

* * *

They don’t actually get married for another six months because Rafael is insistent they book the nicest place in the city for the reception. He has to call in a few favors to get it in six months and not two years but it’s worth it. Olivia thinks he’s hilarious. He knows she doesn’t care about this and she’d marry him in the precinct basement in her sweats for all she cares. They both know she secretly loves that he’s being this fussy.

They both know he’s actually a romantic and that’s all she ever actually wanted - someone she could open her heart to. They both know neither of them had any choice but they honestly wouldn't change the who of it for anything. Maybe the how, maybe the when, but definitely not the who. She tells him he doesn’t have to get her bouquets of purple peonies for whatever random occasion.

She knows he does it because he wants to.

He'd be lying if he said it was easy - they were both passionate and stubborn and no one agrees about everything. It was definitely easier, though. Definitely better than being alone. Definitely better than being without her. Infinitely better than anything else. More than worth it.

He can't believe he almost fucked it up so bad.

Maybe the universe gives you cruelty so you can appreciate the joys. Maybe those you love are really the only people who can truly hurt you. Hell, maybe all that time wasted was penance. 

Olivia comes to see him at his office so often that at least once a semester he has to have her speak for a class session in order to get his students to stop asking about her. Sometimes it devolves into questions about their relationship. He starts to wonder if some people are just taking his classes because she might visit. He understands. He resists giving those kids an infinitesimal grade boost since they clearly get it. 

He knows he's biased. He knows they can't understand how he ever managed to get her to love him back. He's not going to get into the fact that they never had another option really. He never actually wanted one. 

Honestly, he can't really believe she loves him back either. It's not like he became an entirely new person when he got his shit together. He's still kind of an ass, but she loves him and he loves her and really what more could he begin to ask for?

He's never been able to really tell her how much she means to him, but he thinks she knows. He finds it ridiculous that he can help write groundbreaking legislation, get it passed, defend it to whoever, whenever and not break a sweat but he can't ever really express just how wonderful she is in words. He manages to show her though. He realizes now that's what he was really doing with all the coffees and late nights and dinner invitations all those years. He was showing her just how much she meant to him.

He apologizes for this one day, apologizes for letting it drag on for so long. She tells him the only thing he should ever have been sorry for was leaving. She tells him she knows he is so he doesn't have to say it. She says they both should have always known it, but that if ifs and buts were candy and nuts we'd all have a Merry Christmas.

He rolls his eyes so hard it makes him laugh in spite of himself. She smiles, he leans over and kisses her. He's amazed he can do that without telling himself about the forty five reasons it's a bad idea any more.

He loves her so much. He spends the rest of the evening showing her just how much. Maybe she's right - maybe he never really needed the words.

He can't believe he's actually happy. He can't believe soulmates turned out to be a good thing. Maybe the universe really wasn't all that vindictive.

Maybe it was all a twisted joke but it really doesn't matter to him. He's doing good work and training future lawyers and reading with Noah and loving Liv and she's loving him back.

He got everything he never knew he actually wanted. He'll manage to handle it. He always does.

Purple never turned into anything else. He realizes now it's love. He realizes now it was pointing him toward his fairy tale ending. He realizes now he never actually believed soulmates were stupid. He realizes now he was just in pain and that denying himself was never going to stop the agony.

It only took five - no - six - no seven years really - to get himself together, but he's honestly, finally stopped counting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading this and taking the time to leave comments and kudos and such. I haven't written anything in forever and this just sort of came at me and I decided I had to make it happen. Hopefully I didn't mangle the characters too much!


End file.
